


Rebels Without A Clue

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-08
Updated: 2003-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 04:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things about me you don't know, Lex. I'm bad.a rebel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebels Without A Clue

## Rebels Without A Clue

by Harmony

<http://www.lexicity.net>

* * *

Bruce Wayne shook free from the suffocating crowd of disembarking passengers, striding immediately to the baggage claim area. Hesitant to display even a hint of excitement, Bruce offered a brief nod of recognition to the uniformed chauffeur holding a small placard bearing his name. The elderly man smiled brightly and tipped his cap before rushing to stand next to Bruce. They waited in comfortable silence while luggage spilled onto the conveyor belt and slowly circled the automated carousel. Bruce pointed to a matching case and garment bag. Quickly shouldering the bags, the chauffeur nodded toward the exit, "If you please, the car is this way, Master Bruce." 

Unable to suppress a grin, Bruce nodded and followed the older man outside. "I haven't been addressed as Master Bruce in some time. It's good to see you again, Jackson. Thank you for meeting me." 

The driver blushed self consciously, all the while fussing with Bruce's bags, reverently placing them in the trunk of the limousine. "I'm so very glad to see you too, Mr. Wayne. It's my pleasure to escort you to Smallville and into Mister Luthor's waiting hands." 

Bruce lowered his gaze to stare at the toes of his immaculately polished shoes. "Actually, I prefer Master Bruce. Please continue to address me as such during my stay." He climbed gingerly into the vast back seat of the luxurious European import, laughing softly at Jackson's puzzled expression as he closed the door. 

* * *

Thanking his lucky stars for the urgent message that required his father's immediate presence at Camus Laboratories, Lex Luthor's one regret was that Lionel had seen fit to commandeer the LuthorCorp helicopter. His only remaining option was to send Jackson and the limousine, adding an unnecessary delay to Bruce's arrival. Pacing the foyer in poorly concealed anticipation, the young master of the manor retained the tattered shreds of his dignity by ignoring the amused glances passing between the staff. He peered at his watch, determined not to call the car phone again. During his last check-in, the third according to Jackson but only two by Lex's reckoning, Jackson had respectfully but quite firmly informed Lex that the flight from Gotham had landed on schedule at Metropolis International. A bright young man such as Master Lex would know that the drive back to Smallville takes two and a half hours, so it was simply a matter of practicing patience. Less than eager to endure another scolding, certainly not with Bruce as an eyewitness to the event, Lex settled for prowling the length of the foyer one last time. He then retreated to his study. Snatching a bleu botol from the ice bucket, Lex feigned interest in the financial report lying open on his desk. 

* * *

Clark Kent placed a wire basket of freshly collected eggs in the sink, rinsing them haphazardly with lukewarm water. He stared longingly through the kitchen window, trying to ignore a sudden stab of jealousy. It would be easier for Clark to accept the loss of Lex's company for three whole days and nights, if Lex had not seem so thrilled by the prospect. Clark blushed a bit, feeling ashamed for the cruelty of such a thought. He knew that Lex and Bruce spent several years together at Excelsior Prep. Lex was simply excited to spend time with a childhood friend, nothing more. Still, Clark could not forget the high color in Lex's cheeks or the gleam in his crystal blue eyes whenever Lex spoke of Bruce Wayne. 

Shaking his head to clear away all traitorous thoughts, Clark placed the reasonably clean eggs in the refrigerator before dashing upstairs to shower and dress for school. He opted to skip breakfast and the bus this morning so he could detour past Luthor Manor on his race to beat the tardy bell. 

* * *

Bruce glanced indifferently through the passenger window as they cruised slowly along Main Street, inserting appropriate grunts and nods throughout Jackson's spirited travelogue. The surly driver of a mid-priced domestic sedan honked and passed the limousine, causing Bruce to sit up and take notice. "Jackson?" Blinking rapidly, Bruce was positive his eyes were playing tricks on him. "Was that Headmaster Reynolds?" 

Jackson chuckled delightedly at the expression of shock and horror that passed across the face of his young passenger. Smiling into the rear view mirror, Jackson replied, "Why yes, Master Bruce, it certainly was. Mister Reynolds is the new principal of Smallville High School. Most likely, you and Master Lex have nothing to worry about." 

Bruce burrowed into the seat scowling fiercely at the back of Jackson's head. Graciously, the young CEO of Wayne Enterprises decided not to chide the driver for laughing at a pair of innocent school boys and the indignities suffered at the hands of a most cruel and wicked headmaster. 

* * *

Clark had carefully considered all options before choosing to remain concealed. Finally situating his lanky frame amongst a stand of willow trees east of the main gate, Clark had an unobstructed view of the entrance to Luthor Manor. His eyes narrowed slightly as a sleek black limo purred into the circle drive, only to widen comically when he espied Lex Luthor stroll outside to meet the car. Lex never personally answered Clark's knock, not to mention coming all the way outside to greet him, not even after, well, after he and Lex had become more than just friends! Clark's jaw hung slack and he was unable to look away as Lex absently brushed aside the chauffeur's hasty approach and reached to open the car door himself. 

A dark haired man climbed out and pulled Lex into a warm embrace. The man was incredibly tall, standing at least a head taller than Lex. His broad shoulders and muscled torso nearly obliterated Clark's view of the lean, bald young man he had come to think of as his own. 

When he saw Lex press against Bruce's chest, arms wrapping tightly around the dark man's back, Clark spun away from the heartbreaking scene leaving only a plume of dust in his wake. 

* * *

Easily sweeping Lex off the ground, Bruce leaned against the limousine for balance as Lex kicked and squirmed ineffectively. "My ribs," Lex gasped, "For God's sake, put me down, Bruce!" 

A dark edgy laugh rumbled in Bruce's chest. Taking a deep breath, he stilled his features and whispered so softly Lex had to lean in to hear. "Stop fighting me, Lex. Struggling will not help and weakens you." As he spoke, Bruce increased the pressure, crushing Lex in his massive arms. 

Lex ceased his struggles by sheer willpower, surrendering to the painful embrace. Dropping his head, Lex placed a gentle kiss on Bruce Wayne's lips. "You win, Bruce. I've stopped fighting. Please, put me down." 

Bruce released a shuddering breath as he carefully lowered Lex's feet to the ground. "Sorry about that, Lex. I didn't intend...well, I'm sorry." Staring fixedly over Lex's shoulder, Bruce refused to blush. He stopped speaking rather than continue to stammer and be embarrassed further. 

"Don't worry about it, Bruce. I know better than to fight, I simply forgot." Lex leaned forward, standing on tiptoe to brush a conciliatory kiss across Bruce's cheek, "All is forgiven and forgotten." To ease the awkward moment, Lex wrapped his arm around Bruce's waist. "Let's go inside. I would be remiss as your gracious host, if I failed to provide the requisite grand tour of the ancestral abode." 

Bruce shook off the last of his discomfort, smiling fondly down at Lex. "We can't have you being remiss, can we?" He laughed, easily falling into step with the shorter man. "I expect to find an abundance of dark nooks and crannies in this draughty old castle. I'm certain you remember my affinity for lurking about the shadows, Master Lex." 

* * *

Chloe and Pete watched, thoroughly amused, as a grumbling Clark pawed through his locker, jumping unnecessarily when he slammed the door with a resounding clang. "What's up with that?" Pete reached to give his best friend a jab in the ribs, "Come on, you can tell us, Clark. Admit it; I'm sensing trouble in paradise, aren't I?" 

"Don't tease the feeb, Pete. It's not nice." Chloe giggled, hiding her face behind an armload of books. "Oh! By the way, I'm adding a brand new column to the Ledger. Yes sir, I think Advice to the Lovelorn might just be my ticket out of this one horse town. Clark can be my very first victim...er...client...er...anonymous contributor!" 

"Shaddap, you two," Clark groaned, "This is so totally not about Lana. Please, just leave it alone. Please?" Scrubbing his fingers through his hair, Clark sighed as the wayward bangs fell right back across his forehead. He groaned again, when the tardy bell rang. "Great! Now, I'm late for homeroom! That is the very last thing I need, right now. Principal Reynolds has been aching for a chance to throw me into detention, ever since the day he found out that Lex is my friend." 

As so often seems to happen, if one speaks of the devil, he appears.... 

Principal Reynolds bustled along the corridor, braking sharply as he spotted Clark. "Kent! Glad I caught you." The large and imposing black man seemed curiously distracted this morning. "I have a question for you." Taking Clark by the elbow, the principal led him away from the other students. "Do you know a young man by the name of Bruce Wayne?" Reynolds peered owlishly into the miserable boy's eyes but continued to speak without waiting for an answer. "I swear I saw him this morning. He's a former student of mine from Excelsior. Wayne and Luthor were close friends," the principal offered Clark a conspiratorial glance, "Exceptionally close." Waving his hand dismissively, the agitated man continued, "Ancient history...but, if Bruce Wayne is actually here in Smallville..." As suddenly as he appeared, Principal Reynolds abruptly wandered away, muttering to himself all the while. 

* * *

Later that evening 

Padding silently if not quite steadily to the bed, a naked Lex carefully climbed atop the rumpled duvet. Handing Bruce a snifter of brandy, he cautioned, "Please, try not to spill, Bruce." Crawling over the equally naked Bruce Wayne, Lex swooped down for a quick kiss before settling in next to his sated and sleepy weekend guest. "I'm sure Dominic and Enrique fought over who had the pleasure of calling Dad to inform him that we ruined his grandmother's hand-tatted bedspread." Chuckling softly, Lex nestled closer under Bruce's arm, resting his cheek on the dark and massive chest. "Where in the world did you learn to do those things with Silly Putty, any way?" 

Bruce barked a surprised laugh and swatted Lex's ass sharply. "There are things about me you don't know, Lex. Things you wouldn't understand. Things you shouldn't understand. I'm bad, Lex...a rebel." 

Rubbing his offended butt cheek, Lex yelped loudly before dissolving into a fit of inebriated giggles. "Hey! Did I just hear Bruce Wayne misquoting dialogue from `Pee-wee's Big Adventure'? I believe this might be one for the record books, ladies and gentlemen." 

Bruce swatted Lex again, and then pulled him close for a mind-numbing kiss. Leaving Lex with his eyes closed and lips still parted, Bruce climbed out of bed and quickly began to dress. "I'm bored, Lex. Let's go out. Surely, there is something to do in this labyrinth of cornfields you call home." 

Lex sighed, "There isn't much, Bruce." He crawled off the bed and stopped in front of the mirror, twisting around to see how red his ass was before stepping into his boxers. "If you're up for the drive, we still have time to hit some clubs in Metropolis." 

Bruce began to pace the room like a caged beast. "No. I don't want crowds or noise." He smiled maliciously at Lex, his black eyes gleaming. "Can you guess who I saw today?" He pulled a black sweatshirt from his opened bag and slipped it over his head. As his face emerged from the inky blackness, the grin was still in place, "Imagine my surprise when I saw Headmaster Reynolds." 

Lex's alcohol and sex-fogged mind was unable to make the leap. "Yeah, so what?" He pulled an equally black sweater from the chest of drawers and slipped it over his bald head, tugging the soft folds down to cover his pale chest. "But, it's Mr. Reynolds, now. He moved here about six months ago after accepting the position of principal at Smallville High." 

Chuckling in a very dangerous way that always frightened Lex when he was sober, Bruce crowded the smaller man and tapped him on the forehead. "Think, Master Lex." Wayne's features seemed almost feral. "Reynolds is new in town. He is the high school principal, for God's sake, the obvious target for any number of disgruntled teen offenders." That same nerve-jangling chuckle bubbled up from Bruce's throat. "On the other hand, you and I are now respected members of adult society. Why, you're even a leader of local industry. Who in the entire hamlet of Smallville will believe Reynolds' claims that Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne threatened his well being and vandalized his property?" 

Grinning wolfishly, Lex licked his lips with predatory glee. "Brilliant!" He grasped Bruce's shirt in his fists, tugging the taller man down to plaster a resounding kiss on Bruce's still laughing mouth. "You're awe inspiring, Bruce," Lex breathed against Wayne's lips. 

* * *

Seated alone in a remote corner of the Talon, Clark Kent, by all appearances had been selected as poster child for the terminally glum and dejected. Lana Lang approached bearing gifts and a knowing smile. "Here, Clark, drink a latte, please? I made it especially for you. Besides, you're starting to scare away the customers." 

Clark sipped mechanically from the oversized cup, setting it down immediately. He didn't bother to wipe the froth from his upper lip. "Thanks, Lana. It's delicious, really." 

Lana slid gracefully into the chair opposite Clark. "Yeah, I can tell how much you're enjoying it. You're looking better already, really." She giggled sweetly and reached to cover Clark's hand with her own. "Would you like to talk about it, Clark?" 

Sighing as if the weight of the world balanced precariously atop his broad shoulders, Atlas shrugged. "No, Lana. I mean, there isn't really anything to discuss. I'm okay, just a little out of sorts. That's all." 

Lana stiffened, stung by Clark's rebuff. "Don't worry, Clark. I wasn't planning to pry. Just felt like helping a friend in need. I won't ask any more personal questions." She stood and gathered her tray, "So, should I leave the coffee?" 

Clark glanced down at the cup before him. "Oh, uh...yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Lana. I'll drink the rest, when it cools a little." Ducking his head, Clark mumbled as an afterthought, "I'm sorry, Lana. I appreciate your concern." 

* * *

Bruce felt cramped and somewhat claustrophobic stuffed behind the wheel of the black BMW. He had extended the seat as far as it would go, but his thighs still brushed uncomfortably against the steering wheel. "I don't understand why you insist on red and silver sports cars, Lex. Honestly, I'll need a shiatsu massage after this." 

Lex shrugged apathetically, rather annoyed that he wasn't driving. "It's your own fault, Bruce. I'm not that drunk and you know it. What's more, I happen to like red sports cars. Black is for prestige vehicles. I'm surprised you don't know the difference." 

Bruce sighed with annoyance. "I know a drunken lout when I see one and I'm looking at one this very minute. Prestige or no, to achieve success in our little endeavor, we must not be seen in a flashy or easily recognizable car, Lex. Black comes in very handy at night, just for future reference." 

Rolling his eyes, Lex pulled a slip of notepaper close to his face. "Damn, Bruce. Your handwriting is still as indecipherable as it was in school. Is this a four or a nine?" He held the paper bearing Reynolds' address out for Bruce to peruse. 

Grinding his teeth, Bruce countered with, "I don't know, Lex. You read the address from the phone book, remember? I simply wrote down what you read to me. Knowing your penchant for strong spirits and illegal substances, I am afraid your eidetic memory has suffered irreparable damage." 

Lex did not attempt to prevent a snort of laughter. "Mind altering substances are no longer a valid concern, but I have received more than my fair share of blows to the head, recently. No doubt, my short-term memory has suffered due to repeated concussions. At least I think it has, I really can't remember." 

Bruce shook his head in amazement. He had no idea why it was impossible to stay angry with Lex Luthor but he had long since given up trying to unravel the enigma smirking at him from the passenger seat. "Just cut the cute stuff and figure out where we're going, Master Lex. We don't have all night, if you catch my drift." 

"Just cut the sweet talk and drive, Bruce. I know the neighborhood and you've seen Reynolds' car. We can figure out which house is his, when we get there." 

Bruce turned the key in the ignition and the finely tuned engine purred to life. "All right, after we find the house, we park around the block." He twisted awkwardly to look over his shoulder while backing the BMW from the cavernous garage. "We'll find an alley or cut across yards to double back. We can't risk being spotted by some pedestrian walking his dog or a nosy neighbor staring at the streetlamp from her bedroom window." 

Letting his head fall wearily against the back of the seat, Lex closed his eyes and cursed the brandy for making him maudlin. Taking a deep breath, he hoped his voice did not betray how deeply Bruce's words had cut. "You act like I've never done this sort of thing before, Bruce. Before you went all chivalrous on my ass, we were the bane of Headmaster Reynolds and the entire faculty of Excelsior Prep. Have you honestly forgotten about our nightly reconnaissance missions?" 

Bruce stared at the vacant road ahead, his scowling features eerily illuminated by the dashboard lights. "No, I haven't forgotten, Lex." He drove in silence for several moments. "But, I'm much better at not being spotted these days. Trust me; there is an art to becoming invisible, Master Lex." 

* * *

Clark exited the Talon no less distraught than when he arrived and now, thanks to Lana, he sported a spectacular caffeine buzz to heighten the effects of his misery. Indulging the urge to pick at the scab, Clark decided to once again detour past Luthor Manor before heading for home and the Loft of Solitude. 

Cruising along the empty streets, Clark was careful not to break the sound barrier. Clark slowed when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. He stopped to get a better look but before his night vision could adjust, Clark heard a cat squall, followed immediately by the sickening thud of a body striking pavement and finally a muffled curse. Creeping farther into a dark and narrow alley, Clark stifled a gasp when realized the voice belonged to his more than just best friend. 

"Fuck! Just help me up and stow the lecture," Lex hissed. He was still on his hands and knees, groaning with each attempt to rise to a vertical position. "This is not my fault. A fucking cat ran under my feet, for Christ's sake!" 

A second indistinct form hovered above Lex, yet made no effort to help. Clark stared in disbelief, as the figure seemed to sense his presence and literally vanished into the shadows. 

"Where the fuck are you?" Eventually, it dawned on Lex that his partner in crime had abandoned him. Climbing slowly to his feet, Lex turned his back to Clark and limped painfully toward the far end of the alley. 

Clark materialized beside Lex, wrapping a stabilizing arm around the injured man. "Lex, what the heck are you doing out here? Are you okay?" 

Laughing bitterly, Lex dashed angrily at suspiciously wet cheeks. "Oh, this is absolutely perfect. I suppose I could ask you the same question." He turned to stare into Clark's eyes. "Why am I not surprised you've shown up to rescue me, Clark?" 

Clark smiled sadly, "Because that's what I do, Lex. It's my job and I take my work seriously." He tightened his grip, pulling Lex against him. Deciding it would be best not to ask after absent friends unless Lex broached the subject first, Clark chose another avenue of enquiry. "How bad are you hurt? Don't try to deny it, Lex. I saw you limping." 

Dismissing his injuries with a shrug, Lex listed them briefly only because of Clark's insistence, "I twisted my ankle. It hurts but I can walk on it. Bruised a little from the fall...I stepped on a cat's tail or something, when it darted under my feet. Couldn't see it in the dark...and, uh, I had too much to drink, from all indications. Guess my balance is off." 

Cupping Lex's cheek, Clark gently lifted his face and brushed a tender kiss across his lover's mouth. "I'll kiss it all better, once we get you home, Lex. I can carry you if your ankle hurts too much to walk that far." 

Resting his head on Clark's shoulder, Lex smiled. "No need for that, Clark. We parked the car at the end of this alley...unless...I'm sure its still there. I didn't hear...no, never mind." He turned slowly, careful not to disengage from Clark's supporting embrace. "Let's go. If the car is gone, we can decide how to proceed then." 

They made their way cautiously along the uneven pavement and the streetlamp at the end of the alley grew steadily closer. When they stepped onto the road, the Beemer was gone. Lex sighed and shook his head. "I knew better than to expect anything different." He bit off the angry words and squared his shoulders. "I will find a pay phone and call the house. Someone will come pick me up. There is no need for you to stick around, Clark. I don't want you in trouble with your parents over something as incredibly stupid as....as this." 

Clark secured his grip on Lex and kissed his temple. "I'm not going anywhere, Lex. Not until you're home safe. My parents will think I fell asleep in the loft again, so just stop it. I'm not going to leave you, like..." Dropping his head, Clark blushed so deeply, Lex could see it even in the moonlight. 

"Don't worry about it, Clark. You're right and I'm not angry. Bruce is not a bad person but he is...damaged. As long as you remember and accept his limitations, well, Bruce and I are rather similar in that respect." Lex turned away, futilely scanning the street for a pay phone. 

Before Clark could object, the same black limousine he'd seen this morning pulled up to the curb. The driver's window lowered smoothly and Jackson smiled warmly at his young employer. "Master Lex? Would you like a ride home, by chance?" 

His shoulders slumped in relief and Lex felt a golf ball sized lump form in his throat. "As a matter of fact, I would. It's an amazing thing, how you just happen to show up, Jackson." 

Climbing from the driver's seat, Jackson opened the back door. "I always have, Master Lex, and I always will. I acquired the knack from of years of driving Lionel Luthor's brat of a son. One never knows when that willful boy might be in dire need of a getaway car." 

Lex blushed crimson and climbed into the car without another word. Oblivious to the exchange, Clark piled in behind him, sprawling across the enormous seat like a sack of potatoes. "This is so cool, Lex. I don't know anyone else who has their own chauffeured limousine!" 

Lex poked and prodded until he had Clark situated just so, then scooted close to nestle against the warm and welcoming shoulder. "Shut up and enjoy the ride, Clark. I prefer to do my pouting in silence, if it's all the same to you." 

Clark laughed, wrapping his arms around Lex and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Go ahead, Lex. Pout all you want. I'm not going to say another word, promise. Oh, but...uh...do you mind if I play the radio?" 

* * *

Clark guided Lex into the house and supported him while he labored to climb the stairs. Reaching the master bedroom, Lex immediately noticed the freshly made bed. There was an envelope propped against a pillow, addressed to him, penned in Bruce's illegible scrawl. Bruce's bags were gone; no evidence of his presence remained in the room other than the hastily written missive. 

Clark scrubbed his palms against the legs of his jeans. "I'll just go downstairs to the kitchen and make an icepack for your ankle, Lex. You get into bed or whatever and I'll be right back." He turned to leave, affording Lex a moment of privacy to read the note. 

Lex nodded, staring dumbly at the envelope. He lifted it with shaking fingers, sadness warring with anger at the thought of Bruce leaving without waiting to make sure he was safe or even to say goodbye. He ripped the envelope in his haste to pull the heavy paper free. 

Lex, 

I waited to see that he was your friend and meant you no harm. I took the Porsche. You can pick it up in the long-term lot at the airport. I will leave the keys at the courtesy desk. I will call you when I get back to Gotham. Sorry it didn't work out like you wanted. I wish things were different. I wish I were different. 

Bruce 

Lex dropped to sit on the bed still clutching the note in his hand. He heard Clark on the stairs, making an enormous racket to announce his return. Lex slipped the letter inside a drawer of the bedside table, unwilling and unable to discuss the matter any further tonight. He slid beneath the blankets and smiled as Clark entered the room. "Come to bed, Clark. I'll set the alarm so you can be home before your parents get up." 

His grin brightened and warmed the room considerably as Clark peeled out of his clothing and crawled into bed. "Good plan, Lex." He snuggled close, mindful of Lex's bumps and bruises. "Feel up to some cuddling?" 

Lex pretended to consider. "Cuddling works for me. Rubbing is good, too...oh, and kissing. You promised kissing, so we can't forget about that." Lex submitted willingly to Clark's comfort and ministrations. "The next time I suggest inviting a weekend guest; do me a favor, Clark. Talk me out of it, okay?" 

* * *

The next morning 

Lex irritably propped his back against the headboard, nearly drowning in the sea of pillows Clark had placed around him. Lex's young lover had admonished him to stay in bed today, coercing a promise to behave with threats of swift and hair-raising punishments if Lex failed to comply. 

Lex would never admit it to anyone but he loved Clark's new take-charge attitude. He didn't know or care whether Clark finally got a clue and recognized Lex's submissive nature or was simply reacting to last night's display of alcohol-induced vulnerability. Either way, Lex decided this turn of events might make for some interesting evenings in the near future. 

Jackson entered the room after knocking softly. "Ah, Master Lex, you're finally awake. I have been instructed to bring you breakfast and see that you eat." He placed the silver tray on Lex's lap. "Don't bother looking for your cell phone. Young Mr. Kent also made it quite clear that you have no phone privileges today. The same rule applies to your computer, so don't ask." 

Lex suddenly reconsidered his earlier fascination with the new and dominant Clark Kent. He huffed loudly and snatched the morning paper from the tray. As he sifted through the sections, Lex stopped to peer at the headline and accompanying photo on the front page of local and area news. He started to laugh and nearly upset the breakfast tray. Moving it from his lap to rest beside him on the bed, he leaned forward and offered the paper to Jackson. "Evidently, Bruce didn't leave town as fast we originally thought." 

Slipping a pair of reading glasses from his pocket, Jackson began to chuckle at the photo splashed across the page. Attired in pajamas and a bathrobe, an irate Principal Reynolds stood amid the trash scattered across his front lawn pointing to the graffiti spray painted across the front door of his home. The picture was grainy and the house bathed in shadows but Jackson thought the artist's impression resembled nothing more than an enormous black bat. 

finis 


End file.
